


Luck and Love in the New Year

by NachoDiablo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bad Cooking, Captain America Sam Wilson, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Modern Steve Rogers, New Year's Eve, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28578942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo/pseuds/NachoDiablo
Summary: Steve gets domestic while preparing for the new year, with perfect results... eventually.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24
Collections: Star Spangled Secret Santa 2020





	Luck and Love in the New Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ABrighterDarkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABrighterDarkness/gifts).



> Happy holidays ABD, I hope you enjoy! The title is also my wish for everyone reading this year :D

The thermostat had been steadily dropping all day, but inside Sam and Steve’s apartment it was warm and cozy. The small space was tidier than it had been all week, with Steve left to his own devices, and there was a newly purchased fleece blanket folded up on the couch. In lieu of a fireplace, the Yule Log channel crackled away cheerfully on the television. Through the window, soft grey skies could be seen, giving way to the first flurries of the season.

In the kitchen, Steve lifted the lid to the slow cooker. He inhaled the rich scent, then secured the lid once more with a satisfied smile. Black-eyed peas were the key to a lucky new year, everyone knew that. They were meant to be eaten on New Years Day, but honestly with the size of the batch Steve had made, it would take all weekend to finish them off. Which should be okay, considering that they smelled delicious, unlike some of Steve’s other kitchen adventures. Cooking was not his forte, but black-eyed peas had been simple enough. 

Well, that wasn’t completely true. A Google search had revealed infinite ways of preparation and seasoning, each one toting itself as the tried and true method for flawless results every time. And a call to Sam’s sister, Sarah, had ended with her hanging up abruptly so she and her husband Devonte could argue in private over which grandmother’s method was  _ the right way _ to do it.

Undaunted, Steve had managed to hunt down a recipe that was both five stars and prepared in a slow cooker. He didn’t trust himself to watch a pot simmer on their gas stove all day. It would do no good at all if Sam came home to perfect beans and an injured boyfriend. He had taken some liberties with the seasoning, using a spice blend from a little local shop down in New Orleans that had come in the mail last week. Best to let the professionals build the flavor palate, he figured.

A quick glance at the clock showed that Sam would be back at headquarters any minute. When they’d shared a lingering goodbye kiss a week ago, Sam had promised a quick de-briefing and immediate return to their apartment once his mission ended. Steve had feigned nonchalance, but truthfully he’d been giddy. Today was New Year’s Eve, and it would be their first holiday spent together as a couple. 

Which was odd for Steve to think about, seeing as they’d been together for months, and living together for most of it.

As an EMT who was passionate about helping people even when it required a dash of danger, Steve had been a fan of Captain America for years. But he’d first become a fan of Sam Wilson over the past summer, when his unit started getting regularly assigned to assist with emergency response after Avengers missions. 

The first time he’d patched up Sam, it had been after Sam had flown back into a burning building to rescue a kitten for two children who’d been fighting back hysterical sobs as they frantically gestured to their smoking bedroom window. Sam had emerged from the flames with a fluffy black poof in his arms seconds before the floors started to cave in.

Steve had observed the Black Widow mutter something sharp under her breath, out of view from the children, of course. Sam had rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be led to the ambulance for a once-over. Steve had smirked as Sam settled in front of him, and went to work on stitching up a particularly nasty gash on his forehead.

“That was pretty reckless,” Steve commented as he cleaned the cut.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I already caught shit for it.”

“I saw,” Steve said with a grin. “But I wasn’t gonna give you shit for it.”

“You weren’t, huh?”

Steve shrugged. “I’d have made the same call. I  _ was  _ gonna rag on you for the narrow escape. Maybe you need to move a little faster next time.”

Sam laughed and tilted his head so Steve could start on the stitches. “Really? You’re critiquing my skills?”

“Just observing as one of the concerned citizens you’ve sworn to protect.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, fingers gentle against Sam’s temple. “That’s how it is.”

Over the next few weeks, they’d crossed paths fairly often. Sometimes Steve would patch Sam up and tease him a little. Sometimes Steve would have to take care of an injured civilian child, and Sam would help keep the kid distracted while Steve cleaned them up. Sometimes the injury count wasn’t too bad, and Steve got to hang back and watch Sam, talking and smiling as he checked in with people. Sam always checked in with Steve last, and their moments of banter stretched out longer at every meeting.

Then in September, Sam had taken a blast to the chest that had knocked him out cold for so long, even the Black Widow had been pale with fear. Steve had kept his cool as Sam was transported to the hospital, with both of his hands wrapped around one of Sam’s in the back of the ambulance. 

En route, Sam’s eyes had flown open to meet Steve’s. He’d looked like hell, but smiled and squeezed Steve’s hands.

“Oh, man,” Sam wheezed. “I bet you’ve got plenty of critique for me this time.”

“Damn right I do,” Steve replied with a shaky smile. “Might have to keep you at the hospital for a while to air all my grievances.”

“That sounds terrible,” Sam said cheerfully. “How about we discuss it over dinner this Friday instead?”

“Like a date?” Steve immediately regretted how eager he sounded, but his nerves were soothed as Sam smiled wider and squeezed his hand again.

“Yeah. Exactly like a date.”

After that, they’d become inseparable pretty quickly. And by the time Steve’s lease was up in November, they decided to take the next step and move in together. With their hectic work schedules constantly conflicting, it was hard to find time to see each other. Sharing a home meant cuddles while the alarm snoozed, doodled post-its stuck to the cereal box, date nights curled up in their bed with takeout and streaming television. 

Steve wasn’t great with romance, but he had good instincts when it came to people, and from the moment he and Sam had first spoken, their connection was unmistakable. Steve was all in with Sam, for as long as Sam would have him. And the last two months seem to have validated their decision; despite the inevitable hiccups of two lives intertwining, Steve already couldn’t imagine being without Sam.

He chuckled to himself as thoughts of  _ forever  _ came to mind. It was far too soon for that. His heart might disagree, but in this instance, he’d be firm and follow his head. He hadn’t even met Sam’s family yet. When Thanksgiving had rolled around, Sam had been on a mission, so Steve had spent it in Indiana with Bucky’s family as he usually did. Christmas had never been a big deal for Steve, even before his mom had died. They celebrated Hanukkah with Bucky, and did the minimum commercial traditions of stocking stuffers and a miniature tree for Christmas, but that was the extent of their December holiday cheer.

Sam’s family, on the other hand, went all out for Christmas.  _ All  _ of his family, all at once, at his great-auntie’s house in New Orleans. With Steve exhausted from extra shifts and Sam heading out for another mission on the 26th, it didn’t seem like the best time for a visit. Sam had gone south alone, and Steve had broken his promise of resting to Sam and picked up even more shifts instead, so his coworkers with kids could be at home. 

Steve had been disappointed at missing the chance to meet Sam’s mother and sister at least, but they had been understanding and seemed to agree with Sam that a quiet visit in the new year was a better option to ease Steve into the family, rather than a whirlwind of endless cousins and desserts revolving through one small house at high volumes. Steve was touched that they’d been so thoughtful, and seemingly just as eager to meet as he was. Sam’s family was large, but it was tight knit, and Steve did not take their hospitality lightly.

Lifting the slow cooker lid once more, Steve dipped the wooden spoon in and brought it to his lips for a taste. He winced, at first because the dish was far hotter, temperature-wise, than he’d expected, but he realized with dismay that it was also  _ crunchier  _ than he’d expected. The beans were far more undercooked than six hours of simmering should have accomplished. 

Frantically he grabbed his phone and pulled up the recipe, scanning it for whatever step or ingredient that he’d missed. He had soaked the beans overnight, and while he had forgotten to plug in the slow cooker for the first ten minutes, that wasn’t enough time for the beans to still remain this undercooked. Skimming down the recipe, his eyes stopped at a note near the bottom, in bold and italics with a series of asterisks at each end.

**_***Do not lift the lid of the slow cooker! This allows the heat to escape! Every time you lift the lid, it adds twenty minutes of cook time!***_ **

Steve slammed the lid shut once more, even though it couldn’t possibly make a difference at this point. He’d lifted the lid at least three times per hour. If that note was mathematically accurate, it was a miracle the beans had softened at all.

Silently he cursed himself. How had he missed that note? It took up half the phone screen! But maybe it wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe Sam would be late coming home, and the beans would have extra time to cook.

The abrupt ringing of his phone startled him from his thoughts. It was Sam. Anxiously, Steve answered. “Hi sweetheart. Everything okay? Are you back yet?”

“Hey, baby.” Sam’s voice echoed and Steve could tell he was still in the quinjet. “We’re about to land at headquarters, but I’ve got some bad news.”

“Oh?” Steve’s stomach dropped.

“I need to head out again to check on something, and I won’t be able to make it back to the apartment before we leave. So I won’t be home until tomorrow.”

Steve let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.” Now there would be time for him to try the recipe again, and Sam would come home to a perfect pot of good luck for the new year.

“Well if you’re not that pressed about seeing me, then maybe I’ll stay away another day.” The teasing note in Sam’s voice assured Steve that he wasn’t seriously offended, but Steve still felt bad.

“Of course I wanna see you,” Steve insisted. “I miss you like hell. I just meant, um, it’s a relief to know that you’re, you know. Out there, protecting America.”

“Right.” Sam sounded wary. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“It’s fine,” Steve assured him. “Take your time, and we’ll celebrate whenever you get back. No rush.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, and Steve could imagine the little wrinkle that appeared between his eyes while he was evaluating a situation. “Alright,” Sam said eventually. “I’ll keep you posted once I’ve got more details and-- _ouch!"_

“Everything okay?” Steve asked. He heard laughter and murmured banter in the background as Sam muffled the phone receiver.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam grumbled as he came back on the line. “Nat just punched me in the arm. I have been officially informed that my presence is not required on the next mission, and I’ve been ordered to go home as soon as we land. So I’ll see you in about forty five minutes, alright?”

“Sounds great,” Steve said weakly. Then he shook his head, chiding himself for being so thoughtless. Sam had no idea of Steve’s bean cooking woes. He was exhausted and deserved a warm welcome home. And Steve  _ had  _ missed him, with an acute pain that he knew Sam shared whenever they were apart.

“I love you,” Steve added, and it was easy to invigorate passion into the words. “I love you so much. Hurry home.”

“I love you, too.” The thread of worry had left Sam’s voice, and Steve could hear his smile as they hung up. 

He dropped his phone on the counter, cranked the slow cooker up to high, and sat down at the table to stare intently at the beans and urge them to cook faster through sheer force of will.

Forty four minutes later, the front door opened and Sam walked in, wearing sweats and an exhausted smile. Steve jumped up from the table and hurried to the front door, folding Sam into a tight hug and burying his face against Sam’s neck.

“Oh, so you  _ are  _ excited to see me.” Sam chuckled as Steve kissed his shoulder.

“Of course I am,” Steve said, lifting his head for a proper kiss. “It’s been a long week without you. I’m glad Nat punched you and made you come home.”

“Yeah, she’s a real gem,” Sam said wryly, wrinkling his nose. His expression softened as his eyes roamed over Steve’s face, drinking him in. “Honestly it wasn’t a hard sell. It’s our first holiday together. I didn’t wanna miss it.”

Heat sprang to Steve’s cheeks. All the love in Sam’s expression was making him feel even sillier about the bean situation. “It’s just New Years. Don’t get me wrong, it’s special to me, too, but it’s not like it’s an anniversary or something.”

“It’s more important than an anniversary,” Sam said. “How you spend New Years is how you’re luck’s gonna go for the whole year. So it’s extremely important that we spend it together, and happy.”

“I’m always happy when we’re together,” Steve replied, which was true, but Steve mostly said it to make Sam roll his eyes and pretend like he wasn’t blushing too, even though Steve could tell he was by the way he ducked his head a little and lowered his lashes.

They traded a few more kisses before Sam pulled away and glanced towards the kitchen. “Something smells good,” he commented.

Steve winced. “At least it  _ smells  _ good. It’s black-eyed peas. For the new year. But I ruined them, of course. They’re way too underdone.”

“Let’s see what we got.” Sam laced their fingers together and pulled Steve into the kitchen. He went to remove the slow cooker lid, but paused and pointed to the half-empty bag of spice blend that sat on the counter. “Is that from Mr. Julien’s shop?”

Steve blinked. “Maybe? Who’s Mr. Julien?”

Sam picked up the bag and looked at the business card that was stapled to the top. He laughed incredulously. “Damn, it is! He has printed business cards now? Fancy. He used to hand-write his number on cut up index cards.”

He set the bag down and gave Steve a curious look. “How’d you get your hands on this stuff? Don’t tell me Mr. Julien has an online store?”

Steve shook his head. “No, Sarah mentioned that she buys her spices from that store in town. I didn’t find a website, but I called and asked if they could mail me some. The guy who answered seemed annoyed, but he did it.”

“Wow.” Sam looked at Steve with awe. “Mr. Julien runs that shop on his own, it’s the size of our bathroom. Even when I was a kid he looked old as dirt. Crotchety as hell, too, but that old man knows his way around a spice palate. And he does  _ not  _ do favors for people, I can tell you that much. You must have sweet-talked him something fierce.”

“I doubt that,” Steve laughed. “He probably just wanted to save Captain America from an under-seasoned new year.”

“Trust me, when we make it down to visit my family, you will see just how little people care that I am Captain America. They will not hesitate to rag on me.”

“Neither do I,” Steve pointed out, grinning as he wound his arms around Sam’s waist.

“That’s why I love you.” Sam kissed Steve’s cheek and shuffled them closer to the slow cooker. Keeping one arm wrapped around Steve, Sam used his free hand to shift the lid to the side and dip the wooden spoon in for a taste. He frowned thoughtfully as he set the spoon down and moved the lid back into place.

“What’s the verdict?” Steve asked, nervous.

“Definitely not ruined,” Sam assured him. “The flavor’s good so far, they just need more time." His hands drifted lower, fingers curling around Steve’s hips. “I’m sure we can keep ourselves busy til then.”

“Yeah?” Steve grinned as he ran his hands over Sam’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “You got anything in mind?”

“A hot shower sounds amazing right about now,” Sam murmured. “Especially if you join me.”

Steve expressed his amenability to that suggestion with an onslaught of increasingly heated kisses.

A few hours later they were nestled on the couch in their pajamas, eating bowls of black-eyed peas with collards and cornbread. They ate in comfortable silence, other than the crackling of the Yule Log video, and watched as the flurries of the afternoon thickened into fluffy flakes worthy of a snow globe swirling past the window pane.

“These are delicious,” Sam remarked between bites. “Did you get the recipe from Sarah?”

“Sort of,” Steve replied. “I looked up a recipe online and incorporated her tips.”

“Hmm,” Sam smirked. “I actually think Devonte’s grandmom makes the best black-eyed peas.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Alright, so next year I’ll take Devonte’s advice. Hopefully Sarah’s version will still give us luck this year.”

Sam leaned over to kiss Steve’s cheek, and steal a bite of his cornbread in the process. “As long as we’re together, we’ll have the best luck every year.”


End file.
